


To The River Styx and Back

by frostwitch



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa Another Episode: Ultra Despair Girls, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ancient Greece & Rome, Alternate Universe - Ancient Greek Religion & Lore Fusion, Alternate Universe - Hope's Peak Academy (Dangan Ronpa), Ancient Greece, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Romance, Bisexual Izuru Kamukura, Dangan Ronpa Spoilers, Danganronpa 2: Goodbye Despair - Freeform, Danganronpa Another Episode: Ultra Despair Girls - Freeform, Despair Era (Dangan Ronpa), Despair Komaeda Nagito, Eventual Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gay Komaeda Nagito, Hurt/Comfort, Inaccurate Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Kamukura Izuru Has Feelings, Komaeda Nagito As The Servant, Komaeda Nagito Being Komaeda Nagito, Komaeda Nagito Is Not Ill, Komaeda Nagito's Luck Cycle, M/M, Memory Loss, Modern Setting Retelling of Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Nonbinary Kamukura Izuru, Post-Despair (Dangan Ronpa), References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Remnants of Despair (Dangan Ronpa), Romantic Fluff, Super Dangan Ronpa 2 Spoilers, Trans Komaeda Nagito, Twelve Gods of Olympus (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), danganronpa - Freeform, dr2 - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:27:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25148455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frostwitch/pseuds/frostwitch
Summary: Danganronpa x Greek Gods AU, set directly after the events of Ultra Despair Girls in a universe where the Remnants of Despair aren't captured or wiped of their memories.Izuru Kamukura takes on the narrative role of the titan Prometheus.Badly beaten as a result of Zeus (the Headmaster)'s punishment, Kamukura takes refuge in a forest on the mountainside. He knows the odds of survival are slim, and drags his body to a suitable final resting place, collapsing unconscious.What he doesn't know is that the god of luck, known as Servant to those who followed Eris (three guesses who), is about to stumble upon his hiding spot.While death might be impatient to claim Kamukura's soul (the one thing he believes he doesn't have), Servant has other plans for him. Nursing a god who's on the brink of death back to health is no easy task, but Servant sees the grim situation as the perfect way to test the power of his luck.
Relationships: Hinata Hajime/Kamukura Izuru/Komaeda Nagito, Izuru Kamukura x Nagito Komaeda, Kamukura Izuru & Komaeda Nagito, Kamukura Izuru/Komaeda Nagito, Nagito Komaeda x Izuru Kamukura, Servant x Izuru Kamukura
Comments: 2
Kudos: 50





	1. Ichor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MystxMomo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MystxMomo/gifts).



> I wrote this after I got inspired by @MystxMomo's fic 'Something Close to Domestic, Maybe', I hope you enjoy reading it! ( Sorry in advance if I have an irregular update schedule, I'm juggling WAY too many WIPs at once and they're all too important to abandon. ) You can always contact me on tumblr though! 
> 
> Please go check out their works ( and make sure to leave them plenty of Kudos ) !  
> [ Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24195445/chapters/58279768 ]

The flowers in his hair were beginning to decay, Kamukura observed. 

Remnants of a false spring, they slowly ripped apart, rot-tinged petals seeking refuge in the tangles of his waves. They trailed behind him with every step, gliding along the forest floor as though they belonged to a bride’s veil. 

Several dark strands were stuck to his dirt covered hands, to his waist and stomach caked in blood, to the purple bruises that adorned his thighs, weaving a vivid tapestry of loss. They shivered with each labored breath that clawed its way up his throat and pried itself past his lips. 

He did not know the destination his mind had chosen, and did not care much to arrive. 

The lids of his eyes grew heavy as the gashes on his intestines became cold and sticky with each sluggish movement, and he knew sleep would soon be upon him. Perhaps he had earned this long-awaited slumber. At least fading from reality would be a more forgiving fate than succumbing to confinement within the eternal depths of Tartarus. 

An uncontrollable shudder tore through his body, the violent coughing fit that followed ripping through his lungs. He collapsed to his knees only to topple fully onto the ground a moment later. There was no strength left in his body to stand, and even on death’s door, he found himself too proud to crawl. It was pure luck that he’d managed to walk this far.

The earth felt warm. It shifted beneath him, welcoming his body into soil that was still rich with petrichor from the previous night’s rain. His tongue, dry and cracked from wandering the mountains for days with no water, had glued itself to the roof of his mouth, but such a trivial level of discomfort no longer mattered to him. 

Late afternoon sunlight peered into the forest between the trees, painting the world in a pale golden hue. He decided it was fortunate, stumbling upon a clearing before his wounds had taken too great a toll. 

At least he could see the sky. Quietly, the fallen god watched as the sun sank towards the horizon. He’d like to watch it set once more, if that was not too difficult a task for the fates. 

Zeus, supreme ruler of the gods, king of Mount Olympus, was dead. 

Of course, Kamukura had known this for a while. Four days prior, the vultures tasked with tearing out his liver every morning at sunrise--the vicious, disgraceful birds which delighted in shredding his skin and mangling his entrails--stopped arriving. And his innards, afflicted by his own godly regeneration abilities, did not heal. 

Three days ago, his chains weakened and crumbled to dust. Why they suddenly became prone to rust, he did not know, but he chose not to lament his newfound freedom. There was only one explanation for his torment to end when it should have lasted beyond eternity: the god who sentenced him to this punishment no longer ruled the heavens. Zeus swore to defend his place on the throne for as long as he drew breath, and the fallen god held him to that promise.

Kamukura wondered if Zeus died knowing monsters would be unleashed upon his death and inherit the earth, himself among them. The numbness ebbed away from his limbs, replaced by a dull but pervasive ache. 

Perhaps he had died hating the fallen god. After all, Eris would not have been able to kill the king of gods without Kamukura’s assistance. 

The mere thought of her name caused the wind to grow cold and stiffen, as though her fingernails wanted to scrape against his cheek. There was no doubt in his mind that she had died on her own terms. 

Would someone mourn him? No, not likely. After all, humans were quite forgetful creatures, and the gods did not relinquish their grudges against traitors easily.

Maybe the earth would remember him, he mused. It was fitting that only she would see him like this, laughably weak, unable to curl his fists and fell a blade of grass. He could not offer her much, but supposed what was left of his corporeal should be enough. 

As the sky darkened, stars blinked in and out of focus, their constellations shattered across the universe in unrecognizable shapes. Somehow, this only made them look more beautiful.

As his vision dimmed and his senses faded, the fallen god allowed a sigh to escape his lips. He did not regret leaving the mystery of his existence behind before it could truly be unraveled, though his lack of answers was admittedly unfortunate. Perhaps this was for the best. 

He felt the cold hands of death wrap around his chest, pulling him into the abyss. 

. . .

( They were not, in fact, the cold hands of death. )


	2. Ambrosia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Servant scours battlefields along the countryside for the dead and dying, he finds a trail of unusual flower petals leading into the forest. The petals, he soon realizes, are covered in blood.

Servant felt a light tug in his chest as though the fates were pulling on his strings, urging him forward. 

The sensation stilled, then resurfaced, cycling back and forth every couple of minutes until he was too restless to continue the mundane task of watching over the temple of Achelois. Another tug, this time sharper, startled him into climbing down from his perch atop its highest frieze. The lady goddess of Achelois, mistress of the moon with dominion over health and well-being, ought to be capable of fending for herself for a few hours. 

Besides, he was supposed to scout the nearby battlefields for survivors eventually. Since he was useless when it came to duties aside from cleaning, his job was to patch up the wounded to the best of his ability, and bring back the ones who could be safely moved to Lady Tsumiki for a higher quality level of care. 

If fate was calling him, who was he to refuse its pull?

Once, he had ignored it. An act of sheer curiosity, just to see what would happen should he try to defy his destiny in the smallest of ways. And on that day, while he slept soundly in a field of flowers, Eris put an end to the Olympian bloodline. 

Servant reached a hand behind his back, tracing the two jagged stumps that jutted out from his shoulder blades. Pain prickled under his skin, bringing him comfort. Despite the initial unpleasantness of slicing them off, most notably the mess of blood and mangled feathers that followed, he never once regretted what he did. It was a fitting punishment for the bearer of luck to lose his wings in the aftermath of despair he could have prevented. Still, that did not stop him from wishing he could fly instead of walk. 

Without further hesitation, Servant headed down the beaten dirt path, his feet already beginning to ache. 

Not long after passing through the lengthy fields of wheat that encircled the temple, stretching out at least a mile or so in every direction but south, he stumbled upon a sparse grove of trees at the foot of the mountain. While he was unable to tell what sort of fruit or flower they bore in season, their branches had a pleasant fragrance. When he leaned in close to better identify the scent, his eyes happened to fall on something carelessly scattered among the dead leaves. 

He reached out his hand, closing his fist around the clump of dirt it was stuck to, and held it up close to his face for inspection. A pale petal the size of a thimble fluttered lazily in his palm, glowing pink as a sliver of sunlight crept out from behind the clouds. 

Magnolia blossoms? No, it could be oleander. 

He sniffed, closing his eyes to block out any potential distractions. Immediately, his nose wrinkled in aversion. Definitely oleander. No other flower in the celestial gardens smelled nearly as sharp, rather, they erred on the side of sickly sweet. The bitterness in its nectar settled strongly enough in his nose that he could taste it on his tongue in all its overwhelming glory. 

Strange, he thought. This flower belonged in the desert.

He would have spent more time attempting to decide if he liked the smell, had he not spotted the faint red stain that ran across the worn bark of a branch that had been snapped in two.

Too dark to be paint, too light to be wine. 

_ Blood.  _

Crouching until he was eye level with the stain, Servant gingerly pressed his forefinger into the tree’s bark. It felt wet to the touch. Whoever had come this way before him was bleeding, and he was most likely not very far behind them. In one swift movement, Servant pressed the finger to his lips, licking it clean. 

_ Ichor.  _

This blood belonged to a god. A  _ god  _ was injured in these woods. 

Servant’s heartbeat quickened, the rugged stumps on his back stirring to life. Trickling down the tree before him, was the fresh blood of a god who had recently wandered along the same path. There was no time to waste, he realized, plunging forward through the undergrowth and into the forest with speed that could rival an arrow’s. 

Was his heart pounding with fear or excitement? He couldn’t tell. Regardless, adrenaline pumped through his body and his pulse skyrocketed as he tore through the woods, leaving no stone unturned in a gamble to find the injured god. 

...

When Servant came to his senses, he stood at the far edge of a clearing. On a good day, his memory was questionable, and today was certainly no exception. He had no memory of how he’d gotten here, much less how to find his way back. But he wasn’t too worried about either of those things at the moment, he was more focused on the bloody silhouette slumped over in a patch of grass. 

Slowly, as if approaching a wounded animal, he crept towards the body. Based on the build and attire, he was pretty sure this was a man. Well, more than a man--the faint glow of his skin alone was enough proof of his godhood. Using the limited set of medical skills he’d learned from his time with Tsumiki, Servant checked the man’s pulse and breathing. 

_ Not dead, just unconscious. _

A sigh of relief escaped his lips. He crouched down to get a better look at his face, brushing several long strands back behind the man’s ear. 

And then he froze. 

Several dark curtains of hair hid a strong jawline and an upturned nose beneath deep set eyes, firmly closed. His skin was dark, a significant amount of shades darker than Servant’s own, but he could still see the dusting of faint freckles on the bridge of his nose and shoulders. He had sharp, prominent cheekbones that accentuated his almond eyes, pulling Servant in even further. His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, new and old scars stretching with each breath. Surely this god was the bringer of hope.

_ God, even the way he breathes is beautiful. _

Color rushed to his cheeks as a soft noise of pleasure trapped itself in his throat. He’d just barely managed to catch it before it could pass through his lips, narrowly avoiding humiliation. Instead, the fates had blessed him with the opportunity to bask in the sleeping god’s presence, and he was not about to let it go to waste. 

Servant cradled the god in his arms, gently lifting him up with all the strength his frail body could muster. He cupped one hand around the god’s waist, sending a quiet prayer to Demeter. Koizumi must have been in a good mood, her reply was almost immediate. A bed of flowers blossomed into being at his feet. 

Now  _ this  _ was a fitting resting place for a god to slumber. 

Gingerly, Servant draped his body across the evidence of the goddess’s blessing. He leaned in close to get a whiff of its fragrance. Lamb’s ear and ranunculus flowers, in full bloom. But there was something else, a sharper scent that sliced through the blissful harmony of natural perfume and nectar. 

Ah. Blood. 

In his euphoric daze, he’d almost forgotten what led him to this clearing in the first place. Servant tentatively placed his hand on the god’s stomach, feeling along the gashes that ran down his sides for the source of the wound. Only once he reached it did his eyes widen in shock, causing him to stall in the middle of his attempt to assess the gouges. A quarter of the blood in his body was gone, and his  _ liver  _ was missing. 

There was only one god who could sustain this much damage and survive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I won't lie, it took me a long time to finish this chapter. It wasn't exactly difficult to write, so much as I kept thinking about people's expectations and stressing myself out over whether it was "good enough" or not. But then I realized, I don't have time to think about that--I need to be moving forward, working to become an even better writer, which I can't do unless I share my writing and let myself make mistakes. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter, thank you for giving my work a chance <3


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